


Struggles

by OreoLuvr13



Category: Mindhunter (TV 2017)
Genre: Bill Tench is a bad ass, Gen, Homophobia, Hurt Holden, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Season/Series 02, Protective Bill Tench
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-01-27 08:26:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21389113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OreoLuvr13/pseuds/OreoLuvr13
Summary: Both Bill and Holden are struggling after Atlanta. Too caught up with their own troubles to see that their partner is struggling too. Bill is coming home every night to an empty house. Holden floundering as he maneuvers through the murky bureaucratic waters of the BSU while grappling with his own anxiety.Their struggles cross into a whole new territory when Bill gets a phone call one Sunday afternoon telling him that his partner has been admitted to the hospital.
Relationships: Holden Ford & Bill Tench
Comments: 22
Kudos: 141





	1. Promises

**Author's Note:**

> I just binged watched Mindhunter and I couldn’t leave things like that after the season two finale.

It’s more than thirty-six hours before Bill gets the news. He was oblivious to the fact that his partner was lying unconscious in the hospital, while he spent the day with Brian. Saturday was a beautiful day. They went to the park and then went out for pizza. Brian was talking more. Giving polite answers when Bill asked about school. Did he like his new school? It was okay. Did he make any new friends? Yes.

It was a good visit. Maybe Nancy was right. A change in scenery is what Brian needed.

It wasn’t the first time and it won’t be the last that Bill was wrong.

Sunday, Bill spent the day doing yard work. Yard work that was left by the wayside more and more lately as Gunn has him and Holden flying all over the country consulting on cases. When he’s not traveling coast to coast, Gunn has him attending every fancy fundraiser and big wig party in a fifty mile radius. He’s exhausted and it feels good to finally sit down with an ice cold beer to watch the game.

He’s on his third beer when his phone rings.

_“Hello, is this Bill Tench?” _

Bill shrugs at the unfamiliar voice. “It is. What can I do for you?”

_“My name is Marie. I’m a nurse at Presbyterian Hospital in Fredericksburg. Do you know a Holden Ford?”_

Fuck. Nurse? What did the kid do now? Have another episode? The last thing he wants to do is have to deal with Gunn. Give him another bullshit excuse why Holden is out of commission while his partner gets his shit together.

“I do. He’s my partner. We work at the FBI.”

_“I see. Do you think you can come down to the hospital?”_

Bill rubs his forehead. Fuck. All Bill wanted was a quiet weekend. See his kid. Mow the lawn. Eat a steak without Holden reciting facts about cholesterol and red meat. Have a couple of beers while watching the game. Just one weekend of peace and quiet with no bullshit.

“He need me to give him a ride home?”

_“Ride home? Mr. Ford will not be discharged tonight, Mr. Tench.”_

Jesus. The kid must have really worked himself up this time.

_And you look anxious. Take a fucking valium._

Bill sighs as he recalls the scene from the riverbank down in Atlanta. Both of them were stressed and tired, but that didn’t stop Holden from pushing Bill. And of course, Bill pushed back.

“The episodes are that bad?”

_“Episodes? Mr. Tench…I’m not calling about any episodes.”_

“You’re not?” Bill asked confused.

_“I’m afraid not. Your partner was brought into our ER early Saturday after sustaining a severe beating.”_

**XXXXX**

“Excuse, me. Excuse me**,” **Bill says as he rushes into the hospital. Spotting the admittance desk, Bill quickly makes his way over. His hand is already on his badge just in case he needs it to get the answers he needs.

“Can I help you?” A woman named Lauren asks.

“You can. I got a call from a nurse here, Marie. She said that my partner was brought here early yesterday morning. His name is Holden Ford.”

Lauren nods. “Okay, let me see where your partner is.”

Bill is tapping his fingers anxiously on the countertop as it takes Lauren way too long to find out where Holden is. He runs a hand through his hair as Lauren makes a call.

“Okay, thank you.” Lauren says as she hangs up the phone before turning back to Bill. “Your partner is on the third floor. In the ICU.”

“ICU?” Bill asks. “Jesus, Holden.”

Lauren gives him a sad smile. She points to her right where two elevators are. “Take the elevator to the third floor and take a right out of the elevator. The ICU is at the end of the hall. Marie will be waiting for you.”

Bill nods his thanks and appreciation before he makes his way over to the elevator. Anxiety pools in his gut along with the three beers he had back at the house as he makes his way to the ICU. ICU. What the fuck happened? You don’t land in the ICU with a broken arm or a couple of stitches. What did his partner get himself into?

“Mr. Tench?” A kind voice asks as he finally enters the ICU wing.

Bill gives the woman a small smile. “Marie?”

She nods. “I’ve been one of Mr. Holden’s nurses since he was brought in on yesterday. Dr. Finnigan is examining him now.”

“How is he?” Bill asks.

“The doctor can answer your questions, Mr. Tench.”

“Please, call me Bill. Marie, I just want to know what happened to my partner. I got some many questions. First, you said he was brought in early yesterday morning and I just got the call an hour ago. Why did it take so long to notify me?”

“He was brought into the ER unconscious early yesterday morning. He’s been unconscious more often that not. And the few times he wasn’t, he wasn’t very lucid. Earlier this afternoon was the first time that he was coherent enough to give your name when we asked if there was anyone to call. He couldn’t give us your phone number. We had to look it up. That’s why it took so long to contact you.”

It takes a few moments before everything that Marie has said sinks in. From the sounds of it, his partner has a pretty serious head injury. Holden was brought in unconscious. Been pretty much unconscious for the last day and a half. Wasn’t even lucid enough to give the hospital staff Bill’s number.

He’s afraid to ask, but he needs to know. “What are his other injuries?”

Before Marie can answer a tall doctor comes out of a cubicle.

“Dr. Finnigan,” Maire greets. “This is Bill Tench. Mr. Holden’s partner and next of kin.”

Bill may have just met him, but he already knows that he doesn’t like Dr. Finnigan. There’s an aura of ignorance about him. Like he’s too good to be doing rounds in some hospital in Virginia. Like he should be some fancy physician in a big city teaching hospital; Plus, Bill saw the slight curl of the doctor’s lip when Marie mentioned he was Holden’s partner.

“We work for the FBI,” Bill clarifies. He feels like an ass for saying it. Who the fuck is Dr. Finnigan anyway? “Is Holden going to be okay?”

“Very well, then.” The doctor says as he looks through the chart he’s holding, Holden’s chart. “Your partner has a grade three concussion with a skull fracture. Good news is that so far, the scans have shown no signs of brain swelling or bleeding. Broken nose. Three broken ribs. Tension pneumothorax. Bruised kidneys. We’re monitoring that to see if we’re going to have to go in surgically to repair any internal bleeding. Broken right radius and thumb. Multiple breaks to all his fingers and hand. Dr. Maloney from orthopedics has examined his hand and will be better able to answer your questions. They plan on doing surgery in a day or two to correct the damage. Numerous contusions and abrasions on his face, hands, and knees,” the the doctor says as he finishes reading the list of injuries. He almost sounds bored. Like he’s reading a list of groceries instead of a list of serious injuries that landed Holden in the hospital.

“Jesus,” Bill says rubbing the bridge of his nose. How is the kid going to bounce back from this.

“His injuries are serious but I believe that he will recover fully in time.” Dr. Finnigan says with the tact of an ant. “Anything else before I move on to my next patient?”

Shaking his head, Bill says. “I think you just about covered everything. Can I see him now?”

Dr. Finnigan nods before he makes his exit. Bill looks into his partner’s cubicle. Not sure if he’s ready for this.

“Dr. Finnigan’s bedside manner needs a little work, but he’s a good doctor.” Marie says. “If he says that Mr. Ford is going to make a full recovery then I believe him. Now come on, let’s go see your partner.”

Bill follows the nurse into this partner’s ICU cubicle. He stops a few feet from the bed. He knew it was bad. He was told of Holden’s injuries. But he didn’t imagine it to be like this. Holden’s head is wrapped in thick white bandages to the point that not a piece of hair is visible. The right side of his partner’s face is swollen and various shades of blues and purples mar the skin. His injured hand is resting on a thick pillow at his side.

Even with the nasal cannula, Holden sounds like he’s struggling to breathe. The broken nose and ribs playing havoc with the simple act of breathing.

Marie looks up from the monitor she’s looking at and beckons Bill to come closer. “Come on. Talk to him. Let him know you’re here. He’s been asking for you.”

Another punch to the gut. Concussed and probably out of his mind in pain, Holden asked for him. Even after Atlanta. Even after Bill was a dick to him after the mess with Kemper and the panic attacks.

“Hey kid,” Bill says quietly as he moves closer to his partner’s bedside. His eyes gravitate to Holden’s hand that is closest to him. Holden’s ‘good’ hand. The knuckles are bruised. The fingernails are bloodied and jagged, like they were torn. Bill can’t help but smile. Holden fought back. Fought back hard from the looks of it.

As soon as Bill feels that Holden is okay enough to leave, he’s going to head down to the Fredericksburg Police Department. Find out how the investigation is going. Are there any suspects? Bill will have no problem threatening to bring the bureau in if he has to.

A groan brings Bill’s attention back to the present. His partner’s eyes are fluttering and Holden’s mouth moves but nothing comes out.

“Hey, Holden.” Bill says rubbing his thumb back and forth over Holden’s forearm, one of the few places where there are no bruises or scrapes. “It’s me, Bill. I’m here kid.”

“’ill?” Holden rasps out.

“Yeah, kid.” Bill says as Holden’s eyes open to half slits.

“Came?” Holden asks as his head tilts towards Bill.

“As soon as I heard,” Bill replies. Should have been sooner.

Holden’s eyes are fluttering shut, but Holden keeps trying to open them. Like when Brian was younger and said he wasn’t tired even as he was drifting off. Holden wants to stay wake, but his body clearly has other plans.

“Hey,” Bill soothes. “It’s okay. Get some sleep. I know you’re hurting. Sleep is probably the best thing for you right now. I’m not going anywhere, Holden.”

“’romise?” Holden slurs as his eyes slides shut.

“I promise,” Bill says as Holden relaxes against the pillow as he drifts off into a drugged sleep.

And this is one promise that Bill plans on keeping.


	2. Waking Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What was the 36 hours like for Holden before Bill got that call from the hospital?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a little nervous about posting this. Holden's thoughts are definitely all over the map here but just remember he has been through one hell of a trauma.

The first time Holden wakes up it’s dark. Or he thinks it is anyways. He’ can’t bring himself to open his eyes. First, he doesn’t think the agony in his head will let him. And even if it did, he’s not sure he wants to. What is he going to see? Are they still there waiting for him to regain consciousness before they finish what they started.

His head is pounding. The right side of his face is one giant throbbing pile of hurt. His liquid dinner is in danger of making another appearance. The disgusting smell of urine that’s invading his nostrils isn’t helping either.

Luckily, he’s aware enough to tilt his head to the side as he vomits.

He opens his mouth to say something but it’s indecipherable. At least to his own ears.

Bill. Where’s Bill?

**XXXXX**

The next time Holden wakes up he’s moving. He stupidly opens his eyes to see bright fluorescent lights and dirty ceiling tiles. It’s too much and he instantly slams his eyes shut. There’s a nauseating anti-septic smell. He can hear people moaning and crying. He must be in the hospital.

“It’s okay, Mr. Ford.”

Not it’s no okay. Nothing about this is okay. Holden moves away from the noise. But the moaning doesn’t go away. It only gets worse when he’s lifted into the air. He only becomes aware that he has vomited when he feels someone wiping his mouth before turning him on his side. He begins to drift again, it’s only then that the awful moaning finally stops.

**XXXXX**

The next time Holden wakes up it’s to something puling at his elbow. It takes a couple of tries before he can gain the energy to open his eyes.

“Hey sweetie,” a kind voice says.

Holden lets out a pitiful groan slash moan.

“Sweetie, is there anyone we can call for you.”

He feels himself wincing at the too loud voice. Call? He doesn’t need to call anyone. He needs sleep. Sleep always helps when his headaches get too bad.

**XXXXX**

The next time Holden wakes up it’s to hands. Too many hands touching him. He doesn’t want that. He tries to get away from them but his movements are uncoordinated. It’s from the alcohol. He should have stopped after that third beer. He knows better. The throbbing pain in his head and the red hot agony in his arm forces him to surrender to the invading touches all too soon.

“Easy, Mr. Ford. You’re okay. I’m just checking your pulse.”

Satisfied that he’s not in any immediate danger, Holden sighs in exhaustion. Something is bothering him though. Bill. Where’s Bill? Why isn’t he here? Even when he’s mad at Holden, Bill comes when he needs him. So why isn’t he here now?

“Who’s Bill, honey?”

But Holden is already gone. The light and pain is too much. He needs to go where his body isn’t a constant pulse of agony. Maybe Bill will be there the next time he wakes up.

**XXXXX**

The next time Holden wakes up he’s able to open his eyes fully and stay awake longer than a few minutes. The lights are dimmed but he can make out a nurse standing by his bedside writing something in his chart.

“There he is,” The nurse says turning her attention towards her patient. “You with us this time?”

Holden gives the smallest of nods afraid to test the waters.

“How you feeling? On a scale of 1 to 10?”

Holden holds up his right hand to give a so-so gesture but freezes when pain shoots up his arm. His breaths are coming fast and uneven like when he was with Kemper.

“Easy, there. You injured your hand and wrist pretty badly,” The nurse says as she gently places the injured limb on the pillow that’s resting at his side. “You shouldn’t be moving that hand until it’s at least casted. There you go, breathe in and out. Slow, even breaths.”

When it looks like her patient is going to pass out, at least not right now, the nurse continues. “Is there anyone we can call for you?”

There’s only one person Holden can think of to call. But he doesn’t know if Bill will come. Not now. Not after Kemper and the mess in Atlanta.

“You mentioned a Bill a couple of times.”

So he did mention Bill.

“Who is he?”

That’s a good question. Partner, yes. Maybe a friend at one point, but now…who knows.

But Holden does know that Bill is the only one who he can think of to call. Only one he wants here.

“Bill Tench,” Holden rasps out through dry, cracked lips.

“Bill Tench. Okay, honey. Do you have a number for him?”

He only makes it to the second digit before he fades again. The little burst of energy is too much for his injured body.

**XXXXX **

The next time Holden wakes up, things seem different. His pain is better. Oh it’s still there. But instead of the twelve he’s been experiencing it’s dialed down to a more manageable 8.

But that’s not it.

He tries to ask what’s different but nothing comes out. Feels like his lips are glued together. He feels something on his left arm. Calloused fingers but yet gentle. Not the cold, medicinal touch of the hospital staff. Not rough and demanding.

“Hey, Holden.” A familiar voice says. Holden knows that voice.

“It’s me, Bill. I’m here kid.”

Bill? He came? He knows he has a head injury. Is this hallucination of Bill some sort of concussion symptom?

“’ill?” Holden rasps out. Curious, he opens his eyes. It takes way more time and energy that Holden would have thought necessary to do such a simple task. But, sure enough it is Bill sitting at his side, his hand on Holden’s wrist.

“Yeah, kid.”

“Came?” Holden asks as he looks towards Bill.

“As soon as I heard,” Bill replies.

Holden can feel his eyes fluttering shut. He wants to stay awake. He’s been waiting for Bill to get there. There’s something he has to tell Bill.

“Hey,” Bill soothes. “It’s okay. Get some sleep. I know you’re hurting. Sleep is probably the best thing for you right now. I’m not going anywhere, Holden.”

“’romise?” Holden slurs as his eyes slides shut. He sounds like a scared kid. What will Bill think?

“I promise,” Bill says as Holden relaxes against the pillow as he drifts off into a drugged sleep.

Holden once again fades, but this time it’s different. He can rest easy, knowing that Bill will be there when he wakes up.


	3. Answers (Some)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill gets some answers but they only lead to more questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in two days, yay me!

“Nice of you to show up,” Wendy says as Bill enters her office Monday morning. “I know Gunn has you and Holden flying all over the country, but a phone call letting me know where you are every so often would be nice.”

Bill sighs tiredly as he takes the seat in front of Wendy’s desk. He is too tired for this. Between Holden constantly waking up disoriented and the nurses coming in and out taking his partner’s vitals, Bill got little to no sleep the night before.

He was already dreading the conversation he was going to have with Gunn. How is he going to tell his boss that the boy wonder is laying battered and concussed in the ICU?

He didn’t anticipate Wendy giving him such a hard time. “Holden’s in the hospital.”

“Wait? What? Holden’s in the hospital?” Wendy asks.

“I got a phone call from Presbyterian last night. Holden was brought in early Saturday morning beat to hell.”

“How bad is it?” Wendy asks.

“Bad,” Bill says rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Concussion. Fractured skull. Broken ribs. Hand is fucked up real good. They have some specialist looking at it now.”

“What do you need?” Wendy asks leaning back in her chair.

“Can you and Greg hold things down here? I need to be there for Holden. The kid’s a mess. Has no idea which end is up. Before I left the hospital this morning he asked if we were going to see Manson.”

“Manson?” Wendy asks. “You two interviewed him nearly a year ago.”

Bill nods. “My point exactly.”

“Any ideas of what happened to him?”

Bill shakes his head. “Not a clue. Can’t get in touch of the detectives who are working his case and Holden can’t give me anything. He’s out of it most of the time. And when he isn’t, he’s either throwing up or I’m explaining to him that I’m okay. That we both walked away from the car accident after we interviewed Rissell unscathed.”

Wendy frowns. “How is Holden doing now?”

“They’re doing some tests, Taking some x-rays. I think the orthopedist is going to decide about surgery. It’s going to take awhile so I figured I’d come here and talk to you and Gunn before I head down to Fredericksburg PD.”

“You want to see how their investigation is going?”

Bill nods. “Yeah, they’ve been giving me the runaround whenever I call. Figure they can’t ignore me if I show up in person.”

“Well, good luck.” Wendy says.

Bill stands up. He has to get going, He doesn’t want to be away from Holden for too long. He promised him that he would be back soon. “With Gunn or FPD?”

“Both,” Wendy says turning her attention back to the file she’s reading.

“Thanks,” Bill says as he makes his way to the door,

“Oh and Bill?”

“Yeah?” Bill asks turning around.

“Please let me know if you need anything else.”

“Will do,” Bill says as he starts on his journey to Gunn’s office.

**XXXXX**

Holden can’t help but let out a pitiful moan when the x-ray technician moves his arm into a painful position.

“I’m sorry if I’m hurting you Mr. Ford but I need to x-ray all angles of your arm and hand. That way Dr. Maloney can decide how he wants to proceed with treatment.”

Black dots soon come into his field of vision when his thumb is maneuvered into a painful position. He doesn’t know how but somehow the Jello and water that much to his embarrassment Bill fed him earlier, because his right hand is out of commission and his left one isn’t faring much better, stays where it belongs. “Easy, you’re almost done.”

When he feels like he is no longer going to pass out, Holden opens his eyes. Where’s Bill? He promised Holden that he will be there when he wakes up. Where did he go? “Bill?”

“Your friend isn’t here, remember?” a different but familiar voice says. Not the x-ray tech. Maybe a nurse?

But that’s not right. He swears Bill said he will be here.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. He had to leave for a bit. But he said that he will be back soon.”

He did?

“Here you go. This’ll make you feel better,” the nurse says as drugged obliviousness beckons Holden once again.

**XXXXX**

Bill looks up at the clock when he enters the Fredericksburg PD. It’s already after eleven. The meeting with Gunn went about as well as he expected. Gunn was understanding, but also wanted answers that Bill didn’t have. That led to the meeting running later than Bill expected. He left Holden nearly three hours ago. Shit. He didn’t want to be away that long.

“Excuse me…” Bill asks the desk sergeant. He looks at the desk plague. “Sergeant Healy, I’m Agent Bill Tench with the FBI. My partner, FBI Agent Holden Ford was found beaten Friday night. I will like to speak to the detectives who are working his case.”

“Friday night?” the sergeant asks as he thumbs through his files.

“That’s right. Holden…Mr. Ford was brought into Presbyterian after being beaten.”

“Got it,” the other man says after he locates what he’s looking for. “It looks like detectives Brown and Anginetti are working the case.”

“Brown and Anginetti? Are they here?” Bill asks “I really will like to speak to them. See what leads they have.”

Healy nods. “They should be. Let me call and just doublecheck.” He picks up the phone and after a minute or so he gives Bill the go ahead to head to the detective bull pen.

The detectives are already waiting for him. “Bill Tench?”

“That’s me,” Bill says as he shakes the hand of the two detectives. Anginetti, medium-sized build, probably a couple of years older than Holden, handshake is quick. Like he’s still a little unsure of himself. Brown is lanky and has at least twenty years on Bill. His handshake is firmer, he waits for Bill to pull away first. He’s about power.

“So you and Ford work for the FBI?” Anginetti asks.

“Yeah what do you guys do?” Brown adds.

“We study repeat violent offenders. Manson. Kemper,” Bill says.

“No shit? Really?” Brown asks.

“We do.”

“They must tell you some pretty fucked up shit,” Anginetti says.

“They do and I will love to tell you guys all about it one day, but that’s not why I’m here now. I want to know what’s going on with my partner’s case. You guys got any leads?”

Brown shakes his head. "No leads yet."

"Have you seen your partner? He's not exactly up for an interview," Anginetti adds.

Bill gives the young detective a dirty look. Of course he's seen his partner. The sight of his battered partner is exactly why he's here now demanding answers.

"Yeah, but what about the crime scene? There has to be something there. Holden...Ford's hands are a mess. He fought back. There has to be something there."

Brown shakes his head again. "Sadly, there's not much to work with."

Not much to work with? What the hell? Holden’s a mess. His fingers are going to take weeks to heal. Bill is pretty sure that Holden fought like hell to leave evidence behind and these two are saying that there’s nothing to work with. Are they stupid or just plain lazy?

“There’s no fingerprints or fibers at the scene?” Bill asks.

The two detectives look at each other like they’re in on a secret that Bill is not privy to.

Brown looks at Bill. “You want to know about the scene? I’ll tell you about the scene. It’s a mess. He was found in an alley. Trace evidence and fingerprints everywhere. I’m not wasting our budget on sorting through that mess.”

What the fuck.

“Your partner was found in the alley behind The Canyon,” Brown adds.

Bill shrugs his shoulders. “So? If it’s a heavily trafficked crime scene, that doesn’t mean you don’t do your job.”

“How much do you know about your partner? Anginetti asks.

“Enough,” Bill bites out. He doesn’t like where this is going. He’s done with this shit. If these two ass hats have something to say, then say it. “Just spit it out.”

“The Canyon is the local gay bar,” Brown says. “Is your partner a homosexual?”

Holden at a gay bar? Maybe he doesn’t know his partner as well as he thought he did. Or maybe Bill knew all he cared to know. He hasn’t exactly been there for Holden lately. Not after Kemper and with all the stuff with Brian and Nancy. It’s no real wonder why Holden kept this from him.

But that’s neither here nor there. It doesn’t matter who his partner is or where his partner was. No one had the right to beat Holden the way they did. It’s going to take the kid weeks if not months to fully recover. And these two poor excuses for cops are not going to slack off on their job just because of Holden’s sexual preference. Fuck that.

“I don’t give a shit if my partner was found in a manure pit, you’re going to get your crime scene unit out there and collect every possible piece of evidence. He’s my partner. I don’t give a shit if he screws girls, guys, or pigs, the people who did this to him are going to be found. Now either you’re going to put your best effort going forth or I’m going to call up my boss at the FBI and tell him that the cops who are investigating the assault on his favorite up and coming agent doesn’t feel the need to do a proper investigation just because the victim was found outside of a gay bar. Am I going to have to do that?”

Anginetti’s eyes are wide as saucers. “No…no sir.”

“And you?” Bill turns to Brown. “You in or do I have to call my boss up and say we have a problem?”

Brown shakes his head. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Good. Now get some people out there to try and preserve what’s left of the crime scene.”

If he wasn’t so pissed off, he would have smiled when he saw Anginetti on the phone before Bill even finished asking for a crime scene team.


	4. Coming to Terms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill begins to come to terms with Holden’s attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for your amazing reviews. You guys rock. I love writing protective and bad ass Bill, so there will be plenty more to come.

Bill stands just outside of Holden’s hospital room looking in on his sleeping partner. Apparently, his partner’s condition improved enough to be moved out of the ICU and into a private room.

That does little to make Bill feel better. Not after coming back from the crime scene. Not after what he has seen and read in the police report.

After his little pep talk with Fredericksburg’s finest. Bill decided to tag along with them when they returned to the crime scene. He’s doesn’t trust the locals not to fuck up things more than they already did.

However, Anginetti and Brown were right. The crime scene was a fucking mess. The alley stank of urine and rotten garbage. Close to a hundred fingerprints were found in the alley along with several different types of hair and what looks like to be Holden’s torn fingernails. Several cigarette butts were also found where Holden was. The crime scene unit have their work cut out for them.

If the crime scene wasn’t enough to give Bill nightmares, the police report surely would. According to some eyewitnesses Holden left the bar at around 10:30. He wasn’t found until the owner left through the back door over four hours later. Bill hasn’t been to church since Nancy left but he thinks he might make an exception next week. Thank the man upstairs that Holden’s lung held out until the bar owner finally decided to call it a night.

“You know you can go in?”

Bill turns to see a nurse, “Cheryl.”

“How is he doing?” Bill asks motioning towards his partner. The doctor must think he’s doing better if they decided to move him out of ICU. But Bill isn’t too sure. If possible, the kid’s face looks even worse than from before. The vivid blues and purples now are accentuated here and there with pockets of a sickly yellow. At least he looks more comfortable. He’s still dead to the world but the way he’s resting against the sheets, is much more relaxed. Like he’s free of some of the tension that he’s been carrying with him.

So the kid must be on the good drugs.

“He’s resting now. But he was in a fair amount of pain before. The tests and x-rays were a little rough. We gave him something for the pain and he’s been out pretty much all afternoon. He even slept right through lunch,” the nurse says turning to Bill. “He was asking for you.”

Bill runs a hand over his chin. “Yeah, I got held up. I was expecting to be back sooner.”

He’s not going to tell her that after leaving the crime scene, Bill returned home to shower and change. Had to get the feel and smell of that damn alley off of him.

“It’s okay. It was when they were doing x-rays.”

Holden was looking for him when he was in pain. Great. That doesn’t make Bill feel any better. “What did the specialist say? Are they going to operate soon?”

Chery nods again. “Dr. Maloney will be in later to talk to you and Mr. Ford, but I think he wants to operate tomorrow.” She turns to Bill. “I think you should get in there. Your partner will be waking soon, his pain meds are going to start to wear off.”

Bill nods his agreement before he enters his partner’s room. He hasn’t even finished reading the first section of the newspaper before he hears a low moan coming from the bed. He looks up and sure enough Holden’s half-lidded eyes are looking back at him.

“Hey, Holden. How you doing?”

Holden attempts to shrugs his shoulders but stops mid-shrug and lets out a loud groan.

“Easy, kid.” Bill says holding his hand up.

“You’re back,” Holden rasps out through barely moving lips.

Bill nods. “Sorry it took so long.”

“’kay. Gunn mad?”

Bill cocks his head to the side in confusion. Gunn? Then it clicks. Of course. Holden must have remembered Bill telling him that he was going to head to the office while Holden was getting his tests. That’s why he thinks Bill was late getting back to the hospital. He didn’t know about Bill’s little detour to the FPD.

And he doesn’t need to know now. Holden has enough on his plate. He doesn’t need to know about Bill following up on the investigation into his attack. Or that Bill knows about him. That he knows something personal that he obviously doesn’t want Bill to know.

“He’s...concerned. About our work. You know how Gunn is. He’s all shop.”

That wasn’t a lie. Gunn did ask Bill if he knew how long it was going to be before Holden was going to be able to return to work.

“Back soon,” Holden whispers softly as he tries to sit up, waving Bill’s hands away when he offers a hand.

“Stop, Holden. This is not some school yard scuffle where you got away with a couple of scrapes. You’ve been beat to hell. You have a fractured skull and a punctured lung. The doctor is doing surgery on your wrist tomorrow. This is not something that you can just slap a band aid on.”

Whether it’s the small pharmacy still running through his veins, his injuries making themselves known, the realization that Bill is right, or a combination of all or some of the above, Holden sags back against the bed with a tired sigh.

“Dinner time,” Cheryl calls as she walks in with a tray, setting it down on the bedside tray. “Oh good, you’re awake. Dr. Maloney will be up in a little while to discuss your surgery.”

“Let’s look what’s on the menu,” Bill says as he lifts the tray cover. “Something that passes as chicken soup. Jello. Pudding. Apple juice.”

Holden lets out an irritated groan.

“What?” Bill asks. “You like jello. And the pudding is vanilla. Your favorite. Besides you have to eat. You pretty much passed out after the tests and missed lunch.”

“Dinner?” Holden says softly with his face scrunched up in confusion.

Bill nods. “Yeah, Holden.”

“Late, you have to be home. Nancy be mad?” Holden rasps out.

Bill sadly shakes his head. He hasn’t had to worry about coming home for dinner with Nancy and Brian in over six months. He told Holden about Nancy two weeks after he returned home to an empty house. “Nancy’s okay with me being here, Holden. Don’t worry about it.”

“’kay,” Holden says as he tries to reach towards the dinner tray.

Bill can’t stand to see his partner fumbling with his taped, injured fingers for the spoon. He places his hand over Holden’s. “Stop, kid. Let me help you.”

Holden knows when he’s beat, so he resigns himself to the fact that he needs Bill’s help with the simple task of eating. He’s definitely not happy about it. His eyes are fixated on his lap as he refuses to look at Bill. Bill bites his bottom lip in anger. Not at Holden. But at the assholes who put Holden in this bed. Who beat him to the point where Holden needs to be fed his poor excuse of a dinner. He’s definitely going back down to FPD tomorrow when Holden is having his surgery.

Dinner’s a slow go. Holden was not a fan of the chicken soup and only eats about three spoonfuls. The pudding and jello fare better. His throat must be bothering him because Holden closes his eyes or lets out a little sigh after every couple of bites. Probably because of all the vomiting with the concussion.

Bill doesn’t have much experience feeding someone else. Brian was three when they got him so he was pretty much self-sufficient when it came to meal time. He never realized how hard it was. Holden’s mind is often a thousand miles away, leaving Bill with a spoonful of food mid air more times than not as he waits for Holden to open his mouth.

And then Holden will move at the last second, resulting in a blob of pudding on his cheek. Kid nearly jumps a mile when Bill goes to wipe his face. “Easy, Holden. It’s just me. Just getting this off your face.”

Fucking assholes. There must be a story there. Why else would Holden freak out every time Bill went to touch his face.

Both Bill and Holden were grateful when dinner came to an end with the arrival of Dr. Maloney. He explains the surgery that is going to be performed the next day as well as the specifics of Holden’s injuries. The hand has multiple breaks. His middle, index, and thumb are all broken. The tendons in the thumb are fucked as well. They’re going to repair them the next day when they go in to repair his partner’s forearm with screws and a plate.

Dr. Maloney leaves after ordering another round of pain meds, leaving Bill alone once again with his partner.

“Thank you,” Holden says as his eyes are closing, body relaxing as the drugs take effect. He’s definitely feeling no pain. “Foooor everything. You’re the besssstest.”

Bill can’t help but smile at his partner’s slurred words. It’s good to see his partner pain free as he drifts off to sleep. It’s the least that Holden deserves. “No problem, kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession time. One of my favorite whump tropes of all times is where one character has to feed another because of the their injuries.


End file.
